The Perils of Peeking
by Syn-c0p-e
Summary: The best intentions sometimes have unforeseen consequences - not all of them bad. KJ/C OC POV PWP
1. Chapter 1

The Perils of Peeking

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><p>Summary: The best intentions sometimes have unforeseen consequences - not all of them bad. JCC OC POV PWP

Disclaimer: Oh come on! I know my imagination runs riot but even it doesn't run to thinking it has any claim to Star Trek! I'm just playing with your toys because it's fun. But just in case TPTB are reading genuflects saying 'Please do not sue. Please do not sue. The voices make me do it.'

Rating: NC-17 Naughty words. Naught thoughts. Naughty actions. Not for the sensitive or under-aged.

Plot? No. No, I don't think so. Is there a tongue-in-cheek category?

Written as a Thank You to all those VAMBies out there who have contributed so much to my entertainment over the years. While I, have quietly lurked.

I'm not a writer. It takes me a long time to write a story. My stories tend to go feral. Beta readers shrivel and fade for lack of sustenance. All mistakes are my own.

Also, I'm a Brit please forgive me my spelling, grammar, phraseology.

Finally, first Star Trek fic – I'm afraid I'm not a Trekkie geek so I may be inconsistent with canon... then again Star Trek wasn't consistent in its own universe so who can say. Whatever, be gentle with me!

I think that's it, please read and enjoy. Reviews are cherished.

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><p>This is indisputably one of the most surreal moments of my life. I never thought there'd be a day when I'd be hiding in my sister's bedroom watching her have sex. Well, not since we were teenagers anyway. And, she was far too wily then not to check under the bed and various other places for pesky little sisters, before she started making out with Whatshisname... Funny the only names coming to mind are patronising, condescending, preening prick, dickhead, asshole... Cheb, that was it.<p>

He was good looking though, I'll give him that. Although, I must admit that when I saw him a couple of years ago, I took great delight in seeing that he'd gone to seed. All that toned chest muscle slumping to his waist and below. Bald. Jowly.

I digress. Gone to seed is not how I would describe the man who's toned buttocks I can see humping away. And, it's not just any man, this is her ex-XO. The 'I've never thought of the Commander that way, he was my first officer' XO. I was engaged to Mark so he was pigeon-holed as 'friend' XO. And, finally, the 'I needed an excellent first officer more than I needed a lover' XO.

And I believed her. Well, who wouldn't when he was arm locked by that blond, buxom, Borg babe when they got home.

I didn't plan this. I'd rather not be here. Tempting though the offer may have been, given the choice, I would have turned it down. Titillation factor aside, I'm not that warped (despite other people's views of me), that I would deliberately choose to observe an intimate moment between two people... at least, not without their consent.

So, if I'm not a Peeping Tom in search of a cheap thrill, the obvious question is 'why am I here'? All I have to say is... this is all... my own fault. I've got nobody to blame but myself. Marcus, my occasional boyfriend, I say occasional because we are going through one of those phases, you know the ones... Anyway, he warned me not to come. I should be with him now. I'm going to be in such trouble by the time I get to his place. And, as I peek round the curtains again, that's not going to be any time soon.


	2. Chapter 2

You see, I was only trying to help. The road to hell and all that. But, since Voyager got back from the Delta Quadrant, Katie hasn't had one decent date. Not one. And it's been nearly twelve months. Taking into account the seven year 'mission', that means that for eight years she hasn't had one honest to goodness, decent rogering. And it shows.

I'm not saying she hasn't dated, but there've all been boringly safe and totally lacking in any spark that would induce Katie to get naked. Despite the queues of people wanting to see her when Voyager first got back, there's hardly been a parade of boyfriends and I'm not aware of any of them going past three dates.

I know she's going for safe. It was difficult at first when she was so much in the public eye, and was so far out of the loop she had no idea if people were sucking up because of the public persona or interested in her personally. I understand the problem, I do.

She's been trying to keep a low profile. When she got back half the bigwigs of Starfleet wanted to hang her out to dry, half wanted her lauded to the skies and half had their noses out of joint because they'd been in the Dominion war and she'd missed it. So that's three halves - so what? People can hold more than one view.

The thing that swung it in the end was the President of the Federation publically shaking her hand. Got to love politics. Especially the bit where the possible headlines for castigating Captain Janeway on the one hand and, then absorbing all that technology from Voyager on the other are, potentially, extremely embarrassing.

You can imagine the sarcastic comments it would engender, the righteous indignation that could be assumed. Not to mention it might be legally dubious. If Captain Janeway was to be punished then Voyager should be destroyed. No one should get their hands on the whatsit plating, the thingy torpedoes, those Borg algorithms, replicator enhancements... the list went on. Most of it straight over my head. I've never been interested in such things.

Although, it was funny when Admiral... errr, let's call him Stiffrump, from the 'she wasn't in the war' camp, tried to manipulate public opinion by belittling Captain Janeway in a public forum. I forget the gist of his snide statements, but Katie reminded him that since the Pathfinder project Voyager's logs had been available to Starfleet. He'd fallen straight into the trap and asked 'How was that relevant?'. Apparently, several tactics used by Voyager had been added to Starfleet procedures and been used successfully, on numerous occasions.

Secondly, that enhancements to various bits of equipment, most of the names of which escape me apart from replicators, had been fitted to other ships in the fleet. I'd have added that those changes had filtered down into the civilian market, which was of much more interest to us mere mortals. New model replicators were far more efficient now.

Thirdly, that various security protocols and computer algorithms had been adopted by Starfleet. Stiffrump had, pompously in my opinion (and Katie's but she won't admit it, just says he was ill prepared), stated that those algorithms had been independently developed by Starfleet. Yes, so independently, that entire blocks of code still had Voyager's watermark, Tuvok's and her signature code and Seven of Nine's Borg signature in it. Got to love a technically savvy Captain. 35,000 light years away and still helped beef up Starfleet security. It's not widely known but those security algorithms have been very useful.

Stiffrump's reaction could have raised her to martyr status, especially when he started going red in the face and attempted to throw his rank about. Janeway was out of line, on report, didn't have permission to speak freely, attitude unbecoming an officer - you'll remember this was a public forum - media were present. Journalists sniffed a cover up and a scapegoat - his aides managed to strong arm him out of there before too much damage was done and Katie made a quip to defuse the situation. Then the President shook her hand and nobody was stupid enough to bring up the war, breaches in protocol or how easy Janeway had had it again. At least in public.

I'm rambling I know, but I need something to distract me from what's going on not 10 feet from my position. Where was I... low profile? Right. She's been wearing her uniform or the most dowdy, frumpy casual wear you can find. And, as for her evening wear... words fail me. Again, I understand. Sort of. She wants people who are interested in her, not how she looks on their arm.

My counter argument was that she wasn't projecting the vibrant, passionate, compelling, quick witted, fun loving, quirky humoured Katie at all and as such she was getting the dates she deserved. Which is why I'm here - to implement Project Wardrobe Update.

She was supposed to be out for the evening. Oh, she's been socialising. Don't get me wrong. The low profile hasn't seen her holing herself up doing the hermit routine. She's been dining with Mark, his wife and their young son. She's had lunch with B'lanna and Miral, and Tom when he's back from a mission. Still beats Tom at pool. Tom goads her that now she's an Admiral she can spend all day lounging in the bar practising. Ever since the Borg babe gave him the heave ho, she's had dinner with Chakotay, when he's back from a mission. She goes to the opera with the Doctor. She has weekends with Mom. She goes to art shows and galleries with me. Official functions... you get the picture, her dance card just overflows with excitement.

Tomorrow is the twelve month anniversary of Voyager's return. There's a party. I was determined that she was not going in her uniform or any of the dreary stuff currently in her wardrobe. She was dining with Chakotay tonight. Nothing unusual in that. They've even been away for weekends together. They went sailing once on Lake George. They both came back relaxed but not with that 'we've been fucking like bunnies' glow. I'd certainly been lulled into a false sense of security where he was concerned.

We'd been having coffee this morning - that is Katie and me. I was going on and on about the state of her wardrobe and how she should gussy herself up for the party. She was cunningly evasive and decidedly non-committal. Then she caught sight of something over my shoulder and visibly... softened - not quite the right word but... I halted in the middle of a sentence, mesmerized by her liquid eyes and the way a tiny smile played at the corner of her mouth. And, yes, it's my sister I'm talking about. By the time I turned to see what had put that look on her face, HE had already shown up at the table.

"Hey, Admiral," he said, sliding casually into the booth next to her, as if it were an everyday occurrence. I wondered if they practised such a routine for alien dignitaries in the Delta Quadrant and it's just become second nature. I wondered if he made a habit of interrupting dates in such a manner - pre-planned or otherwise. They're just too comfortable with each other.

"Phoebe," he acknowledged me before turning his attention back to Katie. "I knew you wouldn't be far from a cup of coffee," he teased.

"Did you manage to get Voyager back in one piece this time?" she asked. He clutched his hand to his chest as if wounded. This is obviously some in joke. I was about to say something when he casually stretched his arm across the back of the booth and thus her - I don't think either was aware of exactly what he was doing. From this side of the table it might have looked like he was staking his claim. But, he wasn't. The whole thing screamed intimacy. But, it wasn't. As I said, they're just too comfortable with each other.

I tried to get him to encourage her to dress up. He refused to get involved in fashion opinion. Apparently, Katie is the one with opinions and he likes all his limbs in their current configuration.

One thing I noticed was that they looked at each other like there was no one else around, and they touched far more than any platonic friends I knew. Okay, so Katie's always been touchy feely, although she wasn't doing so much of that when she first came back. I'll leave it to the councillors to assess and document that.

And him, well he was touchy feely with Seven of Nine but I'll bet good latinum he hardly dared touch Katie when she was his Captain. But this morning... actually, he only touched her once but he stays so close, well within Katie's touching range. He even picked food off her plate. And ate it. And she let him. The looks that she threw him were equal parts exasperation and indulgence, but she did not tell him to stop or ask him to leave, or indicate that he was not welcome. I didn't recall seeing this behaviour a year ago and yet it seemed to gel with the reported command relationship they'd had. Although then, I'm sure it was him trying to get her to eat.

When he'd finished her lunch, getting a slap on the hand when he tried to take a swig of her coffee - a response he was obviously expecting because he had this knowing smile on his face when he reached for the cup - he'd invited her out for this evening and then left.

"He tried to steal your coffee?!"

She shrugged. "He wasn't serious. He ruins his with cream and sugar. I think it's part of his test to make sure I haven't been replaced by a shape shifter... or the Doctor while he's been away. We all got a little paranoid after the second time it happened out there."

"He never calls you Kathryn?" I'd asked. She sighed.

"I broke him of the habit of calling me Captain once but Admiral seems to be who and what I am these days."

"And that's just why you need to do something about your clothes. Remind everybody that there's an attractive woman under that uniform."

"I think the original conditioning of me being seen as Captain first and woman second runs too deep." Ah, command distance. So despite their old married couple routine, it just reinforced my supposition that Chakotay did not think of my sister in a romantic way.

"There's other people out there who aren't brain washed."

"Not many people see beyond the Admiral's pips. But," she forestalled me, "When I meet someone who seems more interested in me for me, I'll let you help me buy the deal clincher."

She'd tried to pacify me and, at that point, I'd let it go because we're never going to agree. I understand her problem. I do. But she needs the clothes to meet more people not interested in the pips. Knowing she was going out tonight, the seeds of a plan took root in my mind. I blame the caffeine. They usually talked for hours when they get together. I should have had plenty of time.


	3. Chapter 3

Actually, I might have let the idea fizzle out. 'Leave well alone' as our mother said, 'Katie's good at solving her own problems'. Which was true, in general, but in the romantic sphere... she doesn't have a lot of practice. If I had not just happened to be out, at a bar, with some kindred spirits...

In retrospect, I really shouldn't have been so indiscreet about Katie's private life in such a public arena and, definitely, not to some of the loose lipped ladies of my acquaintance. I blame the alcohol. Alcohol also caused the double whammy of my fellow imbibers encouraging me with the mission (much enlarged upon in graphic detail in some places) in the first place, and certainly contributed to me pursuing, in hindsight, the highly questionable endeavour.

I told them my sister was lonely. Which isn't quite true, she's got a shed load of friends and acquaintances, enjoys dozens of activities with a variety of people but there's no real intimacy in her life. Not even a dog at the moment and Katie needs... that's probably too strong a word, likes... not strong enough, but let's go with likes for the moment. Anyway, she likes intimacy - you know the closeness, the... well, not the cuddling. She's touchy feely, even a hugger but not great on cuddling. Don't get me wrong, she likes sex, physical intimacy, but she leans towards relationships with depth - familiarity, loyalty, permanence...

All this internal meandering - I must be sobering up. Finally thinking things through while trying to drown out the sounds of my sister having sex. There was no philosophical conversation over the several glasses of wine. No, the picture I painted was of a lonely Admiral isolated by protocol, procedures, bureaucracy, and, at this rate, she'd never get to settle down and lead a normal life – which was what she really wanted. That's bollocks, of course, settle and normal are so not Katie but I think there's some merit to the isolation bit. My rapt audience lapped it up - never underestimate the influence of alcohol on a person's perceptions.

I may have mentioned my little idea. Then Tina, or was it Ginga, whoever, somebody made a further, bolder suggestion - and thus it snow balled. Sober, it would have been a crazy idea. Totally insane. Sort of thing you suggest in jest. Sober, it would have been an amusing thought. Sober, I would not have gone beyond the thinking stage and the imaging her reaction when she discovered what I'd done stage. Sober, I would have stopped at that point because a Katie as mad as hell - at me - did not bear thinking about further. But, in my fuzzy alcohol induced haze, I could only imagine her beaming with gratitude (with a post-orgasmic lassitude about her) at my cunning ploy, having, finally, got herself decently laid. Completely disregarding the fact that, sober, Katie would never be seen in public in any of the dresses that I and my non sober conspirators replicated.

So, that's how I found myself in Katie's neat, regulation apartment holding a suitcase full of clothes. I'd got as far as consigning her dresses and pantsuits to the recycler, except the tatty blue dress. The one I was about to throw out when I was helping Katie unpack months ago. She'd grabbed it from my hand and carefully refolded it, stroking out the wrinkles, lost in thought. She gets sentimental about the stupidest things. Whatever, even in my befuddled state, I guess my survival instinct was strong enough not to touch that dress.

I'd admired my handiwork now hanging up in her wardrobe for a few minutes before moving onto her underwear drawers and... paused. Stuffed at the back was the stuff that could be classified as standard issue but at the front was an array of colour and... skimpiness. I was debating what to do (a generous description of my thought processes, slow and fuzzy as they were), when the decision was taken out of my hands.

I heard the beep and hiss of the door, and a stifled female laugh. Oh, shit! I closed the drawer, so quickly it thumped into place. I cringed and waited for the challenge of 'who's there'. Then I heard the other voice. Oh, shit! Chakotay was with her.

I panicked. There was really nowhere to hide in her bedroom and hopefully she'd go straight to the kitchen for a coffee... but she might come in to change her shoes... I shoved the suitcase under the bed and nearly locked myself in the wardrobe but had the presence of mind to remember the door only opened from the outside. Amazing what a surge of adrenaline can do for an alcohol soaked brain. I closed the curtains, more carefully than the drawers, and hid behind them in the corner. It was about the equivalent of putting a lampshade over my head.

I really don't know how I thought I was going to get away with it. Did I imagine that Katie wouldn't see me bulging under the curtain? In my defence, I say again, I was panicking. Anyway it might be enough if she was concentrating on shoes and her... guest. And, I'd be able to peek out to see if it was safe to make my escape.

Not a moment too soon, because I heard the bedroom door open. In retrospect, I probably should have just remained where I was, scaring all three of us for a moment, edged passed them while muttering something about forgotten handbag, sorry to intrude and bolted.

But I wasn't thinking clearly. It wasn't just the wine I'd had. Unlike Katie fear shuts down my thought processes, I get paralyzed. I can't think properly. It's amazing I even had the presence of mind to hide. That survival instinct again. Obviously stronger than I thought. Then again...

My heart was thundering in my chest when I heard their voices get a little louder, both of them were coming closer. Shit. I should have scampered to the bathroom, I could have made a believable if lame excuse. But in her bedroom? She was going to phaser me. If Chakotay didn't beat her to it. Then I'd relaxed. It was only Chakotay. I wasn't interrupting anything... intimate. He'd calm her down.

I should have revealed myself then. Stepped out, gone 'boo', giggled, breathed alcoholic fumes over them, staggered to the door and bolted. But no, that would have required two neurons to rub together and that wasn't happening in my inebriated state. I remained frozen in place.


	4. Chapter 4

However, it seemed that Katie was in no condition to care whether her curtains were bulging or not. She sounded like she was... drunk. Katie never got drunk. Such a loss of control.

They entered the bedroom noisily, calling for lights at 50%. The only reason I didn't have a heart attack, was I realized that the last thing they were looking for was an intruder in the bedroom. My heartbeat slowed - slightly. Hidden behind the curtain I couldn't see anything. Lights at 50% would put me in shadow, right? Provided I didn't move they might not notice lumpy curtains.

"Chakotay..." Katie began, "I don't think I should have had that last shot."

"You probably shouldn't have had those last three shots, Kathryn," he responded, wryly. Kathryn? Kathryn!? When did he start calling Katie Kathryn?

She let out a sound that was somewhere between a giggle and a snort. Katie doesn't giggle, well, not since she was about 16.

"But they were so niiiiice," she drawled out. "I deserved it after the month I've had."

He made noises of agreement. There was the sound of clothes rustling. What the hell?

"Chakotay... my coat's stuck!" Was she... pouting? Chakotay cleared his throat.

"So, you can navigate your way out of the Delta Quadrant but not out of your coat?" There was a note of amusement in his voice.

"I had help in the Delta Quadrant."

"Ah, true and very smooth. Now if only Tom was here..."

"Chakotay..." she wheedled. She doesn't do that either. She commands. She can't help herself. Do it, she says and expects it done. Still he is a Captain now perhaps that changes the dynamic. But then she's an Admiral... it was no good, my pickled brain couldn't work it out. I needed to see what was going on. Perhaps... if I just peeked, cautiously...

Then I had to choke back a laugh. Her arm was stuck in the coat sleeve and she was spinning in small circles trying to shake it off. The great thing was they are not looking in my direction at all. Smiling, he finally gave in, put a hand on her shoulder to stop her movement and helped her off with her coat.

"Thanks," she smiled. He turned towards the closet to hang the coat up. Just as well I didn't hide in there! Hey, what's she wearing? That's not her usual boring clothes. They're not in your face sexy but they make her look different, I can't quite put my finger on it... approachable. That's what she looks like, soft and approachable.

And, while my brain had been focused on that he'd been opening the closet door. Shit! Does he know what her clothes look like? Of course he knows. He doesn't have to be intimate with her to know what she usually wears. Then again he's a man, perhaps he doesn't really notice...

He'd palmed the lock, reached for a hanger... and stalled.

"Kathryn..."

"Hmmmm..."

"Are we in the right apartment?" He'd looked towards the bookcase to reassure himself of where he was.

"What?"

He finished hanging up the coat then reached in to take one of 'her' dresses out as she made her way towards him with a puzzled expression.

He held it up for inspection. It was the little red number. The one that had seemed so perfect for tomorrow night about an hour ago. "I don't think I've ever seen this?"

The puzzled look became a frown. "Or this," he said taking out another one. "Is there something you're not telling me?" he teased.

She opened the other door and stared inside. "They're my sister's," she said, finally, as the penny dropped. Her thought processes faster than mine, even when drunk. I am so dead.

"What, all of them? They don't look like her size."

"I should have said, that they're my sister's idea of what I should be wearing."

"Ah, this is a continuation of the fashion... discussion this morning?" She touched the red dress he was holding and stroked her hand down it. Then a mischievous gleam entered her eyes.

She backed up a pace and started to strip her clothes off, flinging them right and left.

"You can give me your opinion," she said, as her top came over her head. She reached for the dress clad only in her underwear. His brain caught up with his eyes, his jaw snapped shut and he dropped the dress into her hand like it was a hot potato. He started picking up her clothes, carefully avoiding looking at her, before placing them on the end of the bed.

"What do you think?" she asked as the dress fell into place and she sashayed over to the mirror where she appraised it. "The bra spoils the line of the dress, don't you think?" She turned to look at him.

"Ermm," he swallowed. Difficult not to look at her when she's asking him a question. Difficult not to let your eyes drop to the aforementioned area when directed to do so. Her hands reached back to unclasp her bra. His eyes snapped up to her face as she pulled the bra from under the dress. She turned back to the mirror.

"So what do you think?" she asked again.

"It's... nice," he tried. Nice?! I was indignant on her behalf. I almost broke cover to remonstrate with him when my brain caught up with my actions. Thank God the alcohol was being metabolized.

"Nice?" She looked at him over her shoulder. "Damned with faint praise. I think it's too much."

"Too much?" He echoed my own thoughts. There's not a lot of material in that dress.

"Too much red. I wear red every day. I want a change of colour."

"Right. Change of colour..."

"What did you do with that blue one you had in your hand? Oh, there it is." It was lying next to him on the bed where he'd put it with the rest of her clothes. She reached for it and flashed him her cleavage as she leant over. As she stood up with it she started to find the opening and then looked down at herself.

"Can't put it on over the top of this one," she laughed at herself. She held the dress out to him which he took like he was an automaton. She pushed the straps of the red dress off her shoulders and it slipped to the floor. Chakotay managed to hold the blue dress up to shield her from his gaze while making it look like he was trying to help - in a totally incompetent male way.

"Perhaps I should go," he said, starting to edge out while she slipped the dress over her head.

"Certainly not," she said, pushing him back. His knees hit the bed and he collapsed onto it. "I need an independent, unbiased opinion of these dresses. I tend to think Phoebe's choices are slutty, gaudy trash that don't have a place in my wardrobe but, I'm prepared to be told I'm being... unfashionable."

Ouch! I think they're slinky and sexy. He threw his hands up in resignation. She smiled.

"So what do you think of this one?" She twirled over to the mirror. She looked pretty damn good. When I spared him a glance, he hadn't batted an eyelash, barely seemed affected at all. I reminded myself that he wasn't interested in her sexually, so he wasn't a good benchmark of how other's would see her. Even so... Tom said he used to drool over her at the beginning of their journey. I think Tom was probably being over dramatic but still... you'd think there'd be some appreciation in his eyes. I guess he developed some kind of immunity.

"It's not trashy." She looked over her shoulder. "Or gaudy." She obviously made some facial expression I couldn't see to encourage him to say more. Probably cocked an eyebrow at him.

God, I really shouldn't have thought the word cock at this point. I peer round the curtain again. Yep, still at it as if I couldn't tell from the sounds. More distraction that's what I need. So where was I? Oh yes, the blue dress.

"And nobody would consider it slutty on you." He'd followed up with.

"Why, because nobody would say it to an Admiral's face?" She sighed and started to take the dress off looking somewhat disconsolate.

"No!" Chakotay leapt off the bed arms out towards her. "No," he said, more quietly, letting his arms drop. "It's nice... I mean, it's lovely. It's provocative, yes, but on you it's kind of classy. You look beautiful, Kathryn." I'd nodded my head in agreement, then remembered I was trying not to move.

"Really?" she brightened, turning back to the mirror.

"It's not like you to be... tentative about your appearance?"

"I'm not, generally. I think I got out of the habit... and this is something I don't have a lot of expertise in." She took the dress off and hung it up turning back towards him. Way too comfortable with each other. They're like an old married couple. She was mostly naked and he's unaffected. Perhaps he's gay? No, can't be. All reports are to the contrary.

"You should get some rest," he said. Wait, what's this? Was it me, or was his voice a little raspy? I guess he wasn't unaffected, after all.

"I'm not tired," she countered. "You should be nice to me. I hurt my ankle." She held up her left foot and I noticed the shoes. Oh, sexy. I couldn't see the expression on her face, but she sounded like she was pouting again. She hasn't done that since we were children. Of course, when she pouted as a little girl it wasn't half as effective as it is now when she puts that raspy, sultry voice to good use.

He swallowed, the sound audible even from here, several feet away. "I know, Kathryn. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have let you run in those shoes..."

"Shouldn't have let me, Chakotay? I wanted to run. To feel alive. You couldn't have stopped me!" Hands on hips. She looked and sounded extremely annoyed. I bet it's doing interesting things to her breasts too. "But there's no way I'm facing the doctor after I've been drinking."

"You're right," he said, amusement in his voice. "It's your own fault."

I imagined she must have pouted again at that point and sauntered towards him. There must have been something on her face that made him wary.

"I've... uhh... got to use the bathroom, Kathryn. You get into your uhh... nightdress... I'll be right back." And fearless Captain Chakotay fled.


	5. Chapter 5

What the hell? Beautiful woman practically naked in front of him, and he runs? Okay, definitely gay. Except he'd been with Seven of Nine. His immunity? But why run? Perhaps she hadn't been pouting as I imagined but had an evil grin on her face instead.

Also, I had to admit, grudgingly, that maybe Katie was not being her normal self. Perhaps the alcohol in her system was making her act a little boldly. Mind you, she's normally bold and a risk taker. I wouldn't really expect anything else in her private life... except there was Mark. Nothing bold or risky about that relationship but it seemed to suit her at the time.

But what did I know? This could be normal behaviour for Katie when she was alone with Chakotay - that old married couple routine. However, judging from Chakotay's reactions so far, I'd venture to say that she was acting unpredictably, and very much unlike her usual self, as far as he was concerned. Perhaps it was the gentlemanly thing to do, to spare her a little dignity for when she woke up in the morning. That and a well developed self preservation instinct, I grinned to myself.

I heard her remove the rest of her clothing but nothing else except the creaking of the bed. I risked a peek. She was lying on the bed. Naked. She even spread her legs a little. Wow. Had I been missing all the signals? Surely she would tell me if she were... 'doing it' with Chakotay, just to get me off her back. Although, at this point, Chakotay's not behaving as if they have been doing it... I'm confused.

Thought processes so caught up in the confusion that I didn't hear Chakotay when he came back into the bedroom and consequently, hadn't ducked back behind the curtain. My heart lurched, but I needn't have worried. Clearly expecting her to be in her bed under the covers or at least clothed, the expression on his face was utterly priceless. I was hard pushed not to burst into laughter. Even if I'd been caught then and subjected to Katie's displeasure it would have been worth it to have seen that look.

He quickly averted his gaze. Hah, so now he's not so comfortable, I smirked to myself. He's pulling on his ear. I wonder what that signifies? His gaze drifted towards the curtains and I twitched the curtain to cover my face, a shiver of anxiety running down my spine. Hopefully, he wasn't really seeing anything, lost in whatever was going on inside his head.

"Okay, well ermm... I'm going to go then... "

I bet Katie's not pleased with that announcement.

"Don't go yet," she said softly. What no command to strip and get on the damn bed?

"I think it'd be better if I went now, Kathryn," he replied, sounding like he was trying to be firm.

"Better for whom?"

Wait a minute. She hadn't sounded drunk then. I peeked again before my brain caught up with my actions. Fortunately, he was now looking straight at her. Except, his eyes were trained on her face not her body.

"For both of us, Kathryn... we talked about this before and agreed not to... I know circumstances have changed but we haven't... we need to... I can't do this unless... urgh – "

That doesn't sound good. I hoped it was the situation rendering him inarticulate and not because he was struggling to find a way not to hurt a friend.

Katie bit her lip. "You... you're not interested. I understand." She tried to smile. "Sorry, didn't give you time to prepare a story."

Her fingers began to fidget on the bedcovers, and I could tell she was suddenly wishing she wasn't so naked... so vulnerable. In fact, I was surprised she hadn't vaulted off the bed to get her robe. Actually, no, thinking about it now, a more calmly, controlled, graceful movement would be more Katie. However, it became a moot point as Chakotay became more animated at that point than I've seen him in a while.

"Oh God no, Kathryn!" said Chakotay, spurred into action and quickly dropping down next to her. "You're killing me here. I want you... Spirits know, I want you. But I want more than you're offering. I love you..." He closed his eyes and sighed. "Why am I saying this? You're not going to remember this in the morning."

Of course she'll remember! She's not that drunk. What makes him think she won't remember? Stupid man! She might not remember all of it and she might wish she didn't remember some of it but... wait! What? He loves her... Yes, of course he loves her but, is he in love with her? Damn, I missed some of her response while I was processing.

"I remember everything you've ever said to me, Chakotay. Even the things you said when you didn't know I was listening. But I did hear them. I heard them here." She took his much larger hand in hers, the colour contrast noticeable even in the dim light, and placed it on her chest, right over her heart.

Then, before he could say a word, she had moved his hand from chest to breast and both of their breaths caught in their throats. As did mine.

"And besides... I want this." She moved his hand to fondle her. Her eyes closed.

"But you're not thinking properly, Kathryn. You've been drinking. You'll regret this in the morning, and how could I face you then?"

Regret it? Why the hell would she regret it? Drunk sex with a stranger, maybe. Not that I can imagine Katie putting herself in that situation. Therefore if she got drunk with Chakotay, whom she trusts, she intended it. But sex with him... maybe if the sex is bad, then being drunk gives them both an excuse to step back, slightly embarrassed but friendship still intact. Whatever, it didn't look as though Katie was listening to him. She was too busy trying to get him to play with her breast.

Hallelujah! He began to cooperate, kneading her breast and using two fingers to hold the nipple in place while his thumb ran over the hard nub. She moaned, he jerked at the sound and she moaned again. Her breathing grew uneven.

"I know what I'm doing. I'll remember," she promised. "I've wanted you for... years." A sigh escaped between her lips. "Chakotay... I wanted this to happen. But we seemed to keep falling back into the same pattern of behaviour. I needed to jerk us out of it... needed a little... help. So I suggested we go to a bar... to unwind, loosen up a bit."

I knew it. This is no drunken impulse. Katie had a plan. He seemed to let that soak in.

"So this is a Janeway 'punch your way out' tactic? Not some manifestation of all the alcohol you've taken in tonight?" Hope was the overriding emotion in that statement.

"No. Took a hypo halfway through when you went to the head. But a big step... needed... some Dutch courage," she whispered.

"You've never needed Dutch courage in your life."

"This is personal, Chakotay."

"You don't know how much I want this, Kathryn, you have no idea." His voice sounded strangled. "But I want this to be perfect for you. I should go." He removed his hand. What the hell! Is he not listening?! Stupid, stupid, stupid man!

She grabbed it again, holding on tight. Her other hand she used to run up and down her body. "But...Chakotay," she said, drawing out the "otay" with a little sigh and moan. How can he keep resisting? "It will be perfect. And right now I'm so... horny."

Good tactic, I thought. When all else fails, a little dirty talking. Of course, it's usually the man trying to convince the woman, but vice versa must work the same. In fact, usually the woman just has to turn up naked... obviously, Chakotay's put paid to that myth.

Chakotay looked distinctly... shocked. Yep, that's the expression I saw on his face all right. As if he'd never in a million years expected such a word to come out of Katie's mouth. Surely he's heard worse from her. Katie, who took being an Admiral's daughter so seriously, and that knowing swear words was part of her diplomatic duty. She could swear in at least 50 languages and always out cursed me, Mark and the rest of our school friends combined - that included the Klingons.

I was seething as I watched my sister trying to seduce this... words fail me. Imbecile, is the only polite word that comes to mind. What the hell does she have to do to get laid for God's sake? There was no doubt she was sexual aroused. That she wanted him. I eyed up the curtains wondering if I could pull them down and throw them over his head before he realised I was there. Then Katie and I could have tied him to the bed while we argued about what I was doing here. I'm fairly certain Katie would go for the action first and ask the questions after, especially if she's a tiny bit tipsy. Or maybe she'd have tighter control than that. The 'if he wants to go let him' attitude. Although, she'd seemed to have the 'grab him by the balls' attitude at the moment.

I glanced round the room looking for something to hit him over the head with. At the very least I could knock some sense into him. I hardly expected him, of all people, to refuse - he was so attuned to her needs... or he was. Had so much changed? My opinion of him was tumbling by the second.

Katie was whimpering now, writhing on the bed. "Please," I heard her say. Was she begging? Katie? I'm going to kill him.

He closed his eyes and tried again to pull his hand away, unsuccessfully. She was holding on tight, and he tried once more to deter her.

"Kathryn, you don't..." he began, but she cut him off.

"Chakoootaaay," she moaned, finally letting go of his hand and sliding her hands across her breasts. She pinched her nipples. God, I can feel myself getting wet. My clit's throbbing, as if there was a direct line running between her body and mine. I don't want to think how weird that is - getting hot while watching my sister. Especially, given my predicament. I really wish I wasn't here but then again...

"Please, Chakoootaaay," she said, sounding on the verge of tears. "Please. I want you..." Jesus. I was on the verge as well. On the verge of storming out from behind the curtains and smacking him round the head. I certainly wasn't thinking very highly of him at the moment. "I neeed you..."

Was that a low blow? Using Chakotay's weakness to be needed against him? I certainly hope so. As far as I'm concerned all's fair in love and war... and this was definitely both. If the man's made of flesh and blood and possesses a willing cock... I paused. Perhaps he didn't have a... still, he had hands, a mouth, tongue surely, under the circumstances, he could improvise. How could he refuse?


	6. Chapter 6

He didn't. Thank God! Sound the fanfare.

"Okay, Kathryn," he said, a tone of resignation in his voice, like he's duty bound to have sex with her. For God's sake! Don't do her any favours, moron! And then the reality of the situation hit me. NO! My mind shouted at me. NO! No. No. Nooo. No, I did not want to see Chakotay have sex with Katie. NOoooooo.

I know I'd stood here rooting for it, partially mesmerized while it played out in front of me and partially paralysed with fear in case Katie found me. In regards to the clothes, I'd been expecting to face her ire over a comm link where I could be smugly safe, not directly in her presence with a full power pack of irritation.

If I was paralysed with fear at that thought, how do you think I feel about facing her if I interrupt her having sex? Besides, there's no way I can risk an interruption now - after all the effort she's put in. They may never get back to this moment again. I can live more easily with the thought that I've seen her have sex (without her consent) than I can with ruining the moment. I resigned myself to the inevitable and prepared to start my career as a voyeur. But Jesus, I'm horny too now. This is going to be hard. Sorry, Freudian slip.

Obviously, I don't have to be an actual voyeur. I can give them some privacy and not watch... like hell.

He didn't strip. If I'd made such a request I'd have expected his pants on the floor faster than you could say 'get naked'. Surely, any sane, red blooded male would have divested himself of his clothes at this point?

He took off his jacket, then knelt at the foot of her bed. What the hell was he doing? Why the hell was he taking so long, and why was he at the foot of the bed? Was he planning something kinky? Ooo er, that's an uncomfortable thought. Am I going to have to watch some perverted sexual act performed on my big sister? Good old-fashioned sex would be difficult enough. This could be awkward.

Then he grabbed her ankles and pulled her toward him. The light dawned. Ohhh. That's what he planned to do! That's an interesting solution to a naked woman's declaration of horniness. Not many men I know - including my own 'dear' Marcus - would have thought of, let alone taken, that route. Well, he might have thought about it but tossed the idea quickly. My admiration for the man went back up a notch.

Finally, she was right in front of his face. He pressed a kiss to each thigh then the little thatch of auburn curls between her legs, his hands lightly circling above her knees where they now dangled over the bed. He moved his hands up to her thighs, spreading them further, and Katie helped - eagerly.

"Ohhh," she whispered. It was a little hard to tell, since I could only see his profile, but it looked like he closed his eyes, as if in pain. If it was any other man I would have thought that his pants were really uncomfortable by now, which would have confirmed a willing cock. But he's been so... detached. Not that he was going to get much sympathy from me at this point, tight pants or not. Why didn't he just take his pants off!

The whimpering and moaning of his name continued. His chest seemed to expand. I realized he was breathing her in. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and then he began.

I couldn't see most of what he did. What with the curtains and Katie's thighs in the way, but she seemed to be enjoying it. She sounded like she was having a whale of a time. That was good to know. If a man doesn't do it right, I'm liable to either fake it or yank on their hair and tell them to come to the point.

In my experience, and this comes from both personal and second-hand accounts, for a woman to really enjoy receiving oral sex, the giver has got to know what he, or she, is doing. I'll confess that I've had a few failures - no technique whatsoever. Followed up with the 'it doesn't really do anything for me, and it's hard to do something you don't really like, you know?' I paraphrase but I bet you've heard some variation on the theme. Basically, most of the guys I've known do it because they're asked or expected to, not because they want to.

Obviously, from what I'd already seen, Chakotay wanted to. He could have given in to Katie's pleas by giving her what she was really asking for - sex. As in, full on intercourse. But not only did he actually want to go down on her, from what I was hearing, the guy was good at it, too. Really, really good. And I'm really, really wet! I didn't realize I could get so aroused from someone else getting cunnilingus. I reminded myself I shouldn't be watching. I ignore myself.

His hands were now at her waist, and her hands were gripping his head, holding him to her. I could hear the sounds that were coming from between her legs, general sucking, biting, and licking sounds. I thought maybe I should pay attention, just concentrate on the technique, treat it more scientifically and try to learn something.

I like pleasing my sexual partners, but I do like reciprocation and Marcus is a bit tentative in this area. I'll admit I'm not the best at discussing it though, I'd rather just 'do' it. But I figure that anything that could bring me as much pleasure as Katie seemed to be experiencing was worth my time and concentration. Perhaps surprise and thrill Marcus with the information and maybe get him to try some fancy tongue work on me. Shame I couldn't really see, even when I bobbed my head up and down trying to get a better angle. I remind myself I shouldn't be moving.

Then Chakotay lifted his head, and I thought, what, the show's over already? Had Katie come? She couldn't have. I'm pretty sure she screams like a banshee, from that one time I nearly caught her in the barn with Justin, especially in the state that she was in. Was he tired? I didn't feel much sympathy for him. He'd taken forever to get to this point and she deserved to get her money's worth - so to speak.

But it wasn't a break. Immediately after he lifted his head he looked at Katie's face. Did he want to be sure she was enjoying what he's doing? Is he deaf? Does he want to watch her come? She's going to need more stimulus. Ah, he brought one of his hands up to the vital spot and, even if I couldn't see exactly what he was doing, from the sound of Katie's groan, the way she arched her back and from the movement of his palm sliding toward her, I knew he'd just slipped a finger into her. Another groan – another finger. Pretty soon he was just fucking her with his fingers, eyes half-hooded but still watching her face, never letting up for a second.

Without breaking the rhythm he had generated, his head lowered again and the suckling sounds started anew. From the sound of things, Katie was going to come pretty soon, and hard. Fingers and mouth, I mused. That was good to know. Marcus hadn't come up with that on his own.

After a short time, he lifted his head and asked in a voice I barely recognized as his, "Do you want to come, Kathryn?" Bastard. His fingers were merciless against her, thrusting hard and fast.

"Yesssss..." she hissed.

"I don't think I'm convinced, Kathryn," he said in that voice again. "Why don't you tell me how much you want it?"

The bastard was going to make her beg more? Is this some sort of payback for control issues? I'm going to kill him. Then I realized that his voice was gravelly with lust, and that's why it sounded so strange. Hmm. Fingers, tongue, and a lusty voice. It was working for me. Marcus better be ready when I get to his place.

"Chakotay, I... I want to come." Each word was spaced by a slight hitch in breath as his fingers worked her. "You're making me... I want to come." She moaned again and, this time, her hands found his head and tried to draw him down to her. "IwantocomeIwanttocomeIwanttocome," she chanted.

Somehow, if I'd thought about it, and believe me I never have, but if I'd thought about it I would have imagined her saying 'do it', not giving in to his demands. Still, she'll no doubt get her own back later.

Having got the response he wanted, he lowered his head to where she wanted it. He was there for just a second when a keening cry came from Katie's throat. She practically jack-knifed as she spasmed. What did he do? Did he hit her g-spot? I needed to know. How could I get Marcus to repeat this performance on me if I didn't know? I watched him closely hoping for a clue.

The gods were on my side. As Katie's convulsions subsided I saw him slip her clit out of his mouth. Oh. Right - I should have guessed that. He didn't take his fingers out, though, simply sliding them gently in and out, letting her ride the wave as long as possible.

Finally, Katie stopped moving and it looked like she'd passed out from the combination of alcohol and post-coital lethargy. Funny, I thought she'd have had more stamina than that. I suppose she's out of practice. Chakotay slid his fingers out and sucked on them, never taking his eyes off Katie's face. Since she was no longer aware of him or what he was doing, this was obviously for his own personal pleasure.

He got up with some difficulty, can't blame him considering his position for the last... jeez, how much time had passed? It all seemed to have happened so quickly, yet my feet ache from standing here. He stretched a bit, still gazing down at Katie, then picked her up gently, placing her higher up on the bed, her head resting on her pillow. He gazed at her a little longer stroking the hair from her cheek.

He reached for his jacket lying in a heap on the floor. He was heading for the door, his hand brushing the front of his pants. Poor guy, I thought, this time with sympathy, seeing how they were bulging in the front. He really shouldn't be wearing those pants. No doubt he was headed for the bathroom to relieve his own sexual tension, but why was he taking his jacket? Whatever, hopefully, this was my moment to escape.


	7. Chapter 7

"Chakotay." Her voice stopped him. When had she come to? I knew she'd have more stamina. "Don't leave." Leave! Surely he wasn't leaving... did he not want her? Is that why he'd just... but he said... I'm confused - again.

"I... " she licked her lips. He couldn't see her face, but I could, and it looked like she was screwing up her courage. "I want to feel you inside me," she whispered. Oh yes! Katie's still zeroing in on her goal. Let's see him resist this one. He's got no chance.

He swallowed convulsively and closed his eyes with this look of utter torture on his face. Good. Not many people, especially a man in that state, could have left that room, though I give him points for trying. Even though I don't understand why he's trying.

He had barely taken one step when Katie practically vaulted off the bed and went over to him, reaching up to touch his shoulder. The effect was instantaneous. He still didn't want to give in, resistance cloaked him, but her gentle touch had more power over him than he could overcome.

And then I knew, with a sudden clarity that astounded me, that he did want to make love to her. With every fibre of his being. His reluctance, was for her. He still hadn't got it through his thick head that she wouldn't regret it in the morning. I suppose if his brain is clouded with booze and hormones he's also not thinking properly. I know of what I speak. I should have sympathy, right? Wrong! Stupid man!

"It's not a command," said with a tentative smile. "Please... don't make me beg," she said quietly. As if she hadn't been begging since they practically came in the door. Still, it had the desired effect. He crumbled. Luckily the bed was there to catch him when his knees gave out.

Katie laid a hand on his chest encouraging him to lie back on the bed. His clothes were still on, and he's looking at her with this expression of trepidation, guilty relief, and some other emotion I couldn't quite place. Off came his shoes and socks, and together they got rid of his shirt and his pants. He still hadn't said anything, perhaps he was afraid he was dream weaving or spirit walking or whatever it is he does. He might be relieved to know that there was a witness, someone to reassure him that this was not a dream. But then again, maybe not.

All he had on now was his boxers, a black cotton pair with a rocket pointing straight up... in all senses of the word. I wanted to laugh. Obviously Katie felt the same, the way her lips kept trying to tug into a smile. Perhaps she was worried it would damage his ego. Never know how sensitive a guy can be when he's just in his boxers.

"You like my boxers, Kathryn?" he asked, eventually, a sheepish grin spreading over his face. This let her indulge in the laughter that she'd bottled up. "Blame Tom."

She chuckled - and I realized that I hadn't heard Katie chuckle since she came back from the Delta Quadrant. She's smiled. I think she even laughed the first few weeks she was home. Since then she's been wearing this defensive armour around herself, as if she's afraid of giving too much away. Her job probably doesn't help matters, it being such a political mine field, especially when she first got back. Even around Chakotay the armour's been on... perhaps not all of it all the time... But it's definitely off now.

Before I could process the significance of this realization, and what it meant regarding what Katie had told me about Chakotay and her relationship with him, a groan distracted me. Katie had stopped amusing herself with Chakotay's boxers and had moved on to amuse herself with what was straining to get out of them. Oh yeah, definitely a willing cock.

Usually, I'm a decent person. Decent enough to know that at this point I should have stopped peeking, closed my eyes, looked away, done anything but watch them. But I couldn't help myself. I couldn't stop myself when he was about to go down on her and I couldn't stop myself now. It was like some dreadful sight that you can't avoid looking at. Like gawkers at an accident on the highway. You know it's awful. You know that it's horrible and you shouldn't look, but something, some sick sense of curiosity, makes you do it anyway.

Besides, I had seen too much already, there was no going back. Katie won't give me the gory details later so I'm going to get them for myself.

Self-justification is a wonderful thing.

So I watched. I am a red blooded female, I'm not above holovids when the mood takes me. This was just... real, live flesh. And, I was horny after all I'd seen and heard and not in a position to do anything about it. Okay, so that was my fault but can anyone truly blame me? Besides, what did I have to lose? I was already witness to Chakotay, Cunnilingus Practitioner Extraordinaire. I might learn something else.

His erection was tenting his boxers to the point where I couldn't help but notice that he was pretty well endowed. Look, I know size doesn't matter - well, it does, but a guy can make up for it with technique. But when Katie finally slipped those boxers off, I was drooling.

"Ooh! Chakotay," Katie exclaimed, stroking his penis like it was a precious gift she had just unwrapped. Ignoring his groan and the fact that he must have been on the edge of coming since he first knelt down between her legs. Serves him right for appearing disinterested.

She peeled the boxers all the way off his legs and tossed them over her shoulder. He whimpered. Then she straddled him.

She was looking at him with such admiration, as if he'd had any personal involvement regarding the size of his penis. She was a scientist for crying out loud. She should know it was just a matter of genetic luck. Did she have to pet him as if he had accomplished some difficult feat? She most certainly did. I would have done.

They were looking at each other, staring into one another's eyes. I doubt they would have noticed if a bomb dropped in the middle of the room. It occurred to me that I could actually leave now, and they might not even notice. But no power in the universe could have forced me from the bedroom at that point.

"In me," was all she said. I couldn't tell if it was a question, a request, an order or a plea. She might as well have said 'do it'.

He nodded, looking at her with that emotion I couldn't place earlier. She rose up, inching her way toward her destination, and his turgid penis eagerly cooperated. Finally, she was there, he was in position, and she slowly lowered herself onto him.

I could see his fingers twitching where they lay by his hips, but he didn't move them. He let her have control. I guess most guys would have just wanted to grab her hips and shove into her, and again, I had to admire his restraint. I added another point to his tally. I think my opinion of him is back to where it was.

She was about halfway down when she stopped. I could tell they'd both been holding their breaths when simultaneously they both let out a whoosh followed by great gulps of air and started to breathe erratically. Why had she stopped? I spared a glance at her face and I knew.

Sweat was beading her face, and she was biting her lip. It was hurting her. Oh no! After all that and she still wasn't going to get any. Maybe being able to blame it on the alcohol was a good plan. Chakotay echoed my sentiments.

"Kathryn?" his voice distressed. "Kathryn, get off me."

She didn't answer, still had her eyes closed, breathing hard. She seems to make a habit of that - ignoring him, but then again she's concentrating.

"Kathryn, this is hurting you." He sounded like he was about to cry. His hands went to her hips to lift her off him.

That prompted her into speaking. "Desist, Chakotay. I told you, I know what I'm doing." Ow, command voice. He snatched his hands away as if he'd been burned but let them hover uncertainly around her hips. I smirked. Whipped, he was. Seven years of ordering him about got to count for something, right?

She opened her eyes, and brought a hand up to his cheek, stroking it tenderly. "It's been a while, and you're not standard issue. I just need to... adapt. I want you. So be quiet."

That was said in a gentler tone. He let his hands rest on her thighs and started stroking gently. The guys got control, you've got to give him that.

And then her words penetrated. It reminded me they'd never done the deed before. This was their first time, ever. And here I was taking notes. That knowledge made me squirm, I'm such a heel. I reminded myself I shouldn't be watching.

He whimpered again but didn't say anything. Imagine the torture it must be - halfway inside a woman and have to lie still while she 'adapted'. Especially, as he was at the point where even a stiff breeze could probably have set him off. A thought passed through my head about payback for a certain blond. But that would be uncharitable considering the control he was exhibiting now... wouldn't it?

Also, I was thinking that this is exactly why Great Danes don't have sex with Chihuahuas. The parts just don't match up. He was huge, and she was small. When it came to sex, human beings had to be the stupidest species of all.


	8. Chapter 8

Then I heard different sounds and I just had to peek again. Katie had taken all of him in – he must be halfway to her throat - but she was riding him at a leisurely pace.

And him... she was going to kill him. In fact, he should be dead already. He must have been on the verge of ejaculating since he'd been clit licking, yet he was letting Katie ride him like they had all the time in the world. He kept staring at her, watching her face with rapt attention. Could he not feel her around his dick? Then her leisurely ride got a little faster and gutteral noises started issuing from his throat.

Up and down, up and down, she buried him in her again and again. His hands had gone to her waist. Not controlling her movements. Not forcing her to a faster rhythm. Not slamming her down on him which he must have wanted to do. He seemed content just to watch her.

Then it got to the point where she was riding him frantically. My own jeans were uncomfortably wet, I'd soaked through my panties and my jeans. My clit was throbbing. My nipples hard and sensitive. I was afraid I was going to come myself right here behind the curtains.

I stopped looking, both because I was feeling guilty and because I was hoping to control my own helpless reaction to the visual stimuli. I shouldn't have peeked in the first place. I know I shouldn't have peeked. Did I say wild horses wouldn't have dragged me out of here? I should have taken an opportunity.

Not looking didn't work, either. Mostly because I couldn't stop myself from hearing them, and the noises they were making were just as erotic as watching the sex take place, if not more so. Every squeak of the bedsprings, every grunt from one of them, every wet slap of her ass against his thighs. God, it was torture, and I gave up the battle, threw in the towel, waved a little white flag. Katie's the one with control not me.

I re-peeked - to see what I hope is not going to feature in my imagination every time I close my eyes for the next decade or so - the vision of Katie riding a man. The only thing that could have possibly improved upon what was happening right before my eyes was if you threw Marcus into the mix. And me. And... maybe a kiss between Chakotay and Marcus... shit, what was I thinking? I was a sick, sick bastard.

I was dying to touch myself, but I was more afraid that if I did I'd come so hard I wouldn't be able to hold back the sounds of ecstasy.

Chakotay was holding onto Katie's waist for dear life, and I'm not sure, but I think he was finally letting himself pound her. And then Katie came, crying out his name with the full power of her voice. Yep, she's a screamer.

Then it happened. Chakotay snapped.

Before the strongest tremors had even ceased running through her body, he was sitting up, lifting her off his still very erect cock, a mewl of protest from Katie, and flipped her over onto her hands and knees.

He rose to his knees, gripping her hips in both hands, and in a nanosecond had slammed back into her. She gave a little cry and scrabbled for purchase. He groaned - a sound that went straight to my clit, which was suffering enough as it was. It took all the control I had not to touch myself, the need to come so strong.

This time her body gave absolutely no resistance. I was struck once more by the difference in their sizes. It looked like he was gutting her. Rearranging some organs, at least. It was an arousing sight. But I felt for poor Katie. She hadn't done this in a while. Damn, was she going to be sore in the morning. Not that she'd care. Well I wouldn't. I'd forgive a lot for sex this mind blowing.

He pulled almost all the way out of her, so that he could see his cock, all glistening with combined fluids, before he thrust it back in. There was a symphony of sound happening between her legs, she was that slick and wet from her previous orgasms. He slapped wetly against her ass as he fucked her like there was no tomorrow.

I mean that literally, not just as a figure of speech. An overused phrase I know, usually highly exaggerated. But believe me, the man I was watching was fucking the woman beneath him like there would be no tomorrow. Surely he wasn't still thinking she'd regret it later? What was I thinking? He's not thinking at all. He's just acting on instinct.

I stop watching again. This kind of raw, primeval sex is just too powerful. I want to howl at the moon. I want to claw at the wall. Surreal as it sounds, I wish Marcus were here to take me hard and fast against the wall. I've had all the foreplay I need for weeks. I am never, never, ever going to lambast Katie's clothes again. Never.

So here I stand, in Katie's bedroom, listening to her ex-XO fuck her brains out. And I am not one to use that expression lightly. I've been trying to distract myself, ruminating about how I got here in the first place, engaging myself in philosophical conversation, trying not to do the thing that Chakotay is at this moment trying to accomplish with Katie. Sorry that was convoluted. I blame the hormones. I mean, trying not to give myself an orgasm. I should have done it earlier when I still had a chance of stifling my voice. I'm a screamer, too. Must run in the family. And I really don't want to follow that thought too closely!

I think of what I'm going to tell Mom. What am I going to tell my friends? This is an intimate, private moment between two people that by rights I shouldn't have witnessed, much less share with other people. I think of what Starfleet are going to say. That seems to do the trick, not much admittedly but I can feel my arousal subside a little.

They shouldn't care now, should they? I know there's all sorts of protocols which I've never read because the book would be about 3 metres thick if it were ever printed out. There was no problem with her and Justin. But an Admiral and a Captain? Are they going to have to hide this? Officially, Starfleet don't get involved in people's private life - that much I recall. Unofficially, would they frown on this? There's no chain of command. Would Katie care? I don't know but Katie would have thought this through, wouldn't she?

So I'm not going to tell anyone. Just think if it got back to Katie and she learnt that I was here, in her bedroom, when she made love with Chakotay for the first time. That scenario is absolutely scary. That's right, there's a healthy measure of self-interest.

That problem resolved, I can't help my attention turning back to the events at hand. I can still hear Chakotay's giving it to her, good and hard. Is the man made of steel? For God's sake, let go! She's had two orgasms, she's out of practice, she won't mind if you come now. Okay, I'm being selfish but I need to get out of here and get relief myself. He must be close. Closer than close. A nasty thought shoots through my mind. Please tell me he doesn't practice tantric sex? Please! I take another peek.

He runs his hands from her hips to her shoulders, down the sides of her breasts and, I'm guessing because I can't quite see, he tweaks her nipples because, amazingly, Katie comes again. Not as hard as the first two times, a more gentle floating over the bar but I know she's not faking it. Why should she when she's already come twice? Unless she's pandering to his ego... nah, can't see that happening.

I have to admire my sister, three times in a session, relatively easily, perhaps it's her long dry spell that's contributed. Rather than being out of practice it's made her more sensitive, reactive. Perhaps Chakotay feels like the biggest stud that ever walked the earth.

Oh, I know some women seem to be able to have multiple orgasms at the drop of a hat, every day. In fact, one of my fellow imbibers of last night says she just can't start the day without a dodeca-orgasm in the morning. However, for us mere mortals in the middle of the bell curve, three is pretty good going. Getting a partner who's prepared to go the distance is, of course, half the battle.

I have to admire Chakotay, too. What a star! He didn't lose control, practically tortured himself. Pleasurable though it may have been, it must have been torture. He still hasn't given in. Chakotay is a more generous man than me. That came out wrong. I'm not a man, obviously... but, well, you get the gist!

At last Katie collapses under him and, finally, he breaks the rhythm and just hammers into her fast and rough, and he climaxes with a guttural cry of his own.

I wonder if Katie will be fazed that he yelled 'Captain!' as he jettisoned all those little Captains into her. I bet that's not in her definition of 'perfect' that Chakotay said he wanted for her when he was trying to wriggle out of it earlier. Fortunately, practice makes perfect, and I'm sure Katie will keep putting him through his paces until he gets it right.

When Chakotay's recovered somewhat, he rolls to one side and says huskily, "Kathryn?"

She doesn't respond, and I can see panic on his face. Does he think he's killed her? I struggle to contain a snort. Men! It'll take more than a robust sex session to seriously injure a strong, healthy, ravenous woman like Katie. Oh, she'll have the odd bruise, be a bit stiff and sore in muscles she hasn't used in a while, might even have a bit of abrasion, although she'd sounded lubricated enough. I can only assume that he hasn't had such vigorous sex in a while that he doesn't recognise a combination of stressful month, living off coffee, alcohol, emotional risk followed by energetic sex has finally caught up with her and she's fallen asleep. I know. I know. It's usually the man.

Satisfied she's still breathing, he exhales a long breath, then, with some difficulty, eases off of her body. He straightens the covers as best he can, and rearranges their bodies so that no one will wake up with cramps in the morning. He just lies there until his breathing evens out. Then he smiles. Wow! That's some smile. Great dimples. Shame Katie can't see it. He looks really happy.

I just wish he'd nod off as well so I can make good my escape. My arousal is still uncomfortable and I want to find Marcus. First for some fast and furious, then maybe a bit of communication on techniques and methods for improving our sex life. Then see how the theory translates into practice. Unfortunately, I still can't get out of here. Chakotay is still awake, presumably savouring the moment.


	9. Chapter 9

Imagine my surprise when he gets up soon after and starts putting on his clothes. Surely he's not going to leave? Doesn't he realise she wants him to stay? He grabs his discarded jacket from the floor. Stupid man! I may have to tackle him if he makes it to the door, except there's that survival instinct paralysis kicking in again.

He doesn't put the jacket on, probably still a bit hot and sweaty. He sits down on the edge of the bed and just looks at Katie for a moment. He brushes a wayward strand of hair away from her face, no doubt it got stuck there while she tossed her head about as the sweat was clinging to her skin.

"Please don't regret this, Kathryn," he whispers. "Ask me to stay... " No response from Katie, her breathing remaining even.

He sighs deeply, takes one of her hands and kisses it before pressing it to his cheek. He kisses her palm. Tenderly, he places her hand back onto the bed and tries to draw a sheet over her. Katie's lying on top of the tangled mess, so he's not able to get much over her. Never mind, it's the thought that counts.

Katie's never been much of a romantic. Oh, she likes the dinner, wine and candles bit but her ideal date probably involves swimming in the caves on Mars followed by a flask of hot coffee. Chakotay, on the other hand, looks like he is. So I don't understand why he's leaving. As he gets up to leave, I get a good look at his face and, with sudden clarity, I realize he's in love. Thank God! He's in love. She's in love. They're in love with each other.

So why's he leaving?

If he thinks he's giving her control by not having to face him when she wakes up in the morning, he's sadly mistaken. She's much more likely to think he's saying 'thanks but no thanks'. This whole evening she's been unsure but took the risk and ploughed ahead. If he's not there in the morning she'll interpret it as 'let's forget this happened and never mention it again'. Shit! How can a smart man be so dumb? Shit! Shit. What am I going to do? Tackling him at the door no longer seems like a joke. I'm urging myself to break through several levels of cowardice and self-interest and actually move.

Come on, Phoebe. After three. One. Two...

Relief washes over me, an indefinable weight lifts from my shoulders when Katie surprises us both, again, by speaking. I thought she was out for the count.

"Chakotay?" she says softly, a quaver in her voice. "Stay with me?"

She asks it like a question. Doesn't she know that he's whooping with joy inside?

And another realization hits me – she doesn't know. And I am struck by how two such brilliant people can be so stupid. Like I said before, when it comes to sex and relationships, humans are dumb. What is it about smart people and common sense?

Sorry if I'm repeating the deep philosophical stuff that I said earlier. I'm still half-soused and tingling with arousal with little hope of getting it relieved any time soon. If they would just go to sleep...

Fortunately, he doesn't put up any resistance this time. He strips down to his boxers and rejoins her on the bed. I think he's shaking slightly. Maybe he can't believe what's happening or perhaps he's finally run out of adrenalin and its sheer exhaustion.

"Chakotay, I'm sleeping on the wet spot," Katie says, drowsily. "Can you help me off it? I can't seem to move." He laughs softly and spoons her up against him. He calls for lights out. Damn! How am I going to see to get out without tripping over something? How am I going to tell when they've both fallen asleep?

I hear something... odd. Wet, suckling sounds... oh, they're kissing. It shocks me to realize that's the first time they've kissed. Then Katie shocks me some more.

"Do you realize that was our first kiss, Chakotay?" she murmurs.

I don't hear what he says, but there's a bit of sniffling going on. I'm pretty sure it's coming from him. Hell, I'm tearing up myself. Whether that's from the emotion these two have roused, the stress of being found out, the sheer frustration from the arousal I've been holding back or the strain I've put on my eyes from all the peeking I've been doing, is difficult to decide.

There is silence for a while and I'm about to inch my way from behind the curtains when Chakotay's voice nearly startles a squeak out of me. For God's sake, he should be out cold!

"So this was premeditated, Kathryn?"

There's no reply for long enough I think she's fallen asleep, but then her voice answers in the darkness. "Didn't you notice I let my hair down, Chakotay?"

That's what was different about her! Part of the softness. She's been letting it grow since she got back. It's not as long as it was but she's been back to the buns... hairstyle wise... actually, make that in all senses of the word, lately.

"I knew I should have been worried when you were fiddling with you necklace, in lieu of your comm badge, in the bar!"

She huffs a laugh and mumbles something. He mumbles a reply I can't hear. There are a few contented sighs, then at last some deep breathing that I interpret as them both sleeping, in post-coital bliss, the sleep of the 'well and truly fucked'.

Finally!

I make my way out of Katie's apartment without incident. Safely out of the building I punch the air and cheer. Holy cow, what a night! My heart may never recover. Boy, do I need some stress relief.

I think of Marcus and a predatory grin overtakes my face. Talking of relief, I've got some fierce sexual arousal to share. Followed by some sharing of techniques to try and encourage him to be the stud I'm sure he can be. Not that he hasn't got some good techniques now, but he doesn't put a lot of variety into our lovemaking. Meanwhile, I'd like to aim at achieving, on a regular basis, the ecstasy Katie just demonstrated.

Suddenly, I realize that I'm sober. I wonder when that happened? All those adrenaline rushes I suppose. Enough thinking. I rush to the transporter station and give Marcus's co-ordinates. As I disappear in a twinkling of photons, it occurs to me that as I left Katie's apartment, they were... cuddling.


End file.
